Don't Swim Against the Current [Archive]

[DragonSong]

Isabeau nodded and said rather graciously, "Of course." A sharp whistle called two of the men, Neil and Floren, juniors of the crew, working on the deck of the Storm to her and she nodded to the carriage back on the docks. "The gunsmith needs the chests that're in there, fetch 'em up, lads."

"Aye, Cap'n." They set off.

She tossed a slightly crooked smile in Fletcher's direction. "For the record, those two are probably the easiest to deal with of my lot. You need something and I'm not around, ask one of them, or tell them to fetch me. The blond's called Neil, the gangly on is Floren." Folding her arms, she looked around the deck and said after a moment, "I suppose you'll be wanting a bit of a tour then? Learn where everything is?"

[Cambie]

"Be careful with them!" he called after the two lads, though really there was no need.  The solid oak trunks were wrapped in iron and under heavy padlock.  If anything, they needed to be careful.

Turning to the captain, he smiled sheepishly and nodded.  "That would be helpful, yes.  In truth, I have never stepped aboard a ship before."

[DragonSong]

Isabeau flashed a smile at him. "Right this way then," she said, setting off an beckoning for him to follow.

"Well, you'll mostly be on the upper and gun decks, working on the canons." She gestured to the upper deck, where another pirate was at the wheel, examining the smoothed wood. "There's eighteen on the gun deck, fourteen on the upper."

She turned and gestured toward a set of stairs that led below decks. "Cargo hold and galley are down there, if you need anything out of there. Um..." Her eyes cast around, searching the ship. "I suppose- if you have any questions, just find me."

[Cambie]

Fletcher looked to the stairs leading below.  The ship was still swaying slightly in the tide, and he made a mental note to spend as little time as possible down there in the cramped quarters.

"Hopefully not, but I'll take a preliminary look at your guns first before deciding if I need anything further.  Will you be down below decks?"

[DragonSong]

"I'll be up here, probably," Isabeau said with a sigh, watching her crew scurry about the deck. "Make sure the lads are staying in line."

She smiled at him, clapping his shoulder as she moved past. "Let me know when you've got a price, gunsmith."

[Cambie]

"Aye," he replied with a crooked grin.  What that what sailors said?  Fletcher was almost proud of himself for saying it -- that is, until he spotted the yellow-toothed scowl of a nearby sailor who heard it.  With a gulp and a reddening face, he turned and went to work on the guns.

By the time the sun began its long descent toward the horizon, Fletcher's brow was already deeply furrowed trying to figure out what to tell the lady captain.  The long nines on either end of the ship were fine and needed not much work, though personally he doubted the craftsmanship of them.

The larger guns were in dire need of upkeep, and in several instances he wouldn't have objected to having the entire artillery piece thrown overboard.  By Ansgar, one of the 18-pounders had rust on it!

"You might want to find the captain," he voice echoed from inside the barrel of one particularly large cannon, for the gunsmith has stuck his entire head down the muzzle.  The young lad who had begun following him around looked strangely at Fletcher (for to him, and to all the other sailors, this one was quite a piece of work) before hopping off the barrel upon which he sat and complying.

[DragonSong]

"Cap'n! The fancy man wants ya."

Isabeau looked up from her bookkeeping at the boy standing in her cabin doorway. She smiled a bit at his name for the gunsmith and nodded, standing. "Alright."

She followed the lad to the cannon Fletcher was working on, then leaned against the barrel. "Cabin boy said you wanted me, sir?"

[Cambie]

Fletcher still had his face pressed up against the barrel of the cannon when the captain arrived.  Hastily, he stood and brushed some of the smeared dirt from his cheek.

"Well, I've got good and bad news.  The good news is, most of these guns can function properly with a little tinkering, though it'll take several days at least."

He coughed and patted on the 18-pounded he'd just inspected.

"The bad news is...  your larger artillery is in bad shape.  Frankly I wouldn't even bother firing three of them, they flat out need to be replaced.  There's rusting, cracking along the bore, improper-sized muzzle.  They can't be fixed, and you won't find replacements in anywhere near this town."

He paused for a moment and added, "Replacing them will cost you a pretty penny too."

[DragonSong]

Isabeau listened to his diagnosis with a blank expression, then pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed heavily. "Perfect," she muttered. "Just- perfect."

Well, the Storm was an old girl. She supposed she was just lucky that was all that needed replacing.

With another sigh, she straightened her shoulders and gave the gunsmith a nod. "Right. What you can fix then- how much will it cost?"

[Cambie]

Fletcher looked away.  Truthfully, he could charge a hefty amount for the same work to anybody else, and nobody would have hesitated for a second.  But then again, he wasn't in Uthlyn anymore and his current patron was not some Lord or wealthy merchant.

But a fair price was a fair price.

"A hundred and fifty gold pieces," he finally said.  Not a small amount by any stretch of the imagination; a person could purchase two dozen horses with that amount of money.  But for the number of guns that needed repairing, and the cost of tools and labor, it was a reasonable amount.  Less than he would have charged, honestly.

"We can settle up afterwards, but if I start now, I can have most of the work done within three days."

And he'll have a silver contract to go along with it.

[DragonSong]

Isabeau arched an eyebrow, considering. She would have haggled- but gods her poor girl needed some looking after.

"Done," she said with a nod, holding out her hand. Arching an eyebrow, she added, "But if your work's not worth every coin, I'll make you walk the plank." Her tone was light, joking, but her eyes were flinty.

[Cambie]

The veiled threat was not lost upon Fletcher, but he couldn't help himself but stand a little taller at that moment, shooting her a casual smile.  "Captain, I'm worth every copper.  If you're not satisfied with the work, I'll jump into the sea myself and save you the trouble."

[DragonSong]

She laughed, a little surprised and a lot impressed despite herself. "I like you," she told Fletcher, lips quirking up on one side in a wry little smirk.

Glancing at the cannon, she looked back at him and tilted her head to one side. "Anything I can do to make this a bit easier?"

[Cambie]

Fletcher nodded, taking her hand with a shake. "I'll make a list of things I need.  And somewhere quiet on this ship where I can rest my eyes if I need it."  He'd stayed up long nights lost in his work before, but even a master gunsmith needed rest sometime.

[DragonSong]

Isabeau nodded in return. "You can use my cabin," she decided. "Doesn't get much use when we're in port anyway." She was normally running around whatever town they docked in, trading, gathering supplies, and making repairs.

[Cambie]

"I can imagine," Fletcher replied.  And truly he was imagining it for did not know what sort of life the captain of a merchant ship lived.  Probably spent most of her time ashore bartering and trading, he guessed.

"In any case, thank you for the hospitality Captain."

His list, penned in curling letters that belied his more than fortunate upbringing, took moments to draw up.  By the time he'd handed it to the captain, the gunsmith's sleeves were already rolled up and a heavy-looking hammer in his hand.  Cannons first, pistol later.  Save the best for last.

The list was oddly precise.  Exact numbers of each item, and some with exact dimensions written out. "Knowing exactly what you need makes the work go much more smoothly," he explained.

[DragonSong]

Isabeau's eyes flicked over the list and she nodded. "Yes of course." She bit her lip. Most of this stuff was too precise to trust to someone else to run a quick errand. Maybe Crag, but he had his own duties.

She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "I should go and get these things myself. I'll be back before too long. Any problems, report to my first mate- the large fellow with all the tattoos you met boarding the ship."

[Cambie]

"The one who wanted to kill me?" he said with a wrinkled brow.  "Got it."

The rest of the afternoon was spent tinkering with the cannons that needed the least work.  By the time the high sun began its decent toward the horizon, the day found him below decks, sitting crosslegged beside one 12-pounder that had been completely taken apart -- or at least as much as it could have been, considering it was cast entirely in iron.  The real problem with this piece's trunnions were so dented and warped that it couldn't properly be turned or aimed.

He'd had it removed from its mount, and had taken that apart piece by piece.  The cabin boy, still enraptured by the fancy man, was busy cleaning out months of dirt and grime caked inside the  ignition pan.

[DragonSong]

Isabeau didn't manage to find all the things Fletcher needed until near sunset, and when she returned to the storm she spent a few minutes making her rounds of the upper decks before she headed below to find him.

"How's the work coming?" she asked. Her eyes flickered to the cabin boy and she frowned slightly. "Thought you were supposed to be helping out in the galley, lad."

He sort of ducked his eyes, silently continuing to work, and she sighed, shaking her head. Well, it wasn't as if he was doing any harm.

[Cambie]

Before the cabin boy could say anything, Fletcher stood, dusting off his hands and readjusting his sleeves. He frowned as he looked down at the disassembled gun, hands on hips. 

"It's coming, Captain," he said, looking at her with a slight smile.  His brow was still furrowed though, mostly for the state of this particular artillery piece. The long bronze cannon itself lay motionless on deck while the mount had been separated.  Pieces of it were missing.  He'd thrown the rotting wooden blocks overboard himself.

"Just have to smooth out the trunnion and reassemble the mount, and it'll fire.  How was your day?"